


A Wick To Burn Away

by The_Kid (Nyssara_al_Ghul)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mild Smut, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssara_al_Ghul/pseuds/The_Kid
Summary: She would have recognised that smell anywhere. And just like that, her heart jumped in her throat. A thousand memories that she had pushed away swirled before her. A dark haired angel lifting her off the beach of Lian Yu, carrying her to safety. A mentor, a friend, eventually a lover. Love, lust, hurt, and betrayal. Regret. Through it all, the lingering scent of jasmine.-Sara and Nyssa... or Nyssa's smell, to be specific-Set during Arrow Season 2, between 2x13 and 2x21.Sorry, I suck at summaries.





	A Wick To Burn Away

**Author's Note:**

> So the draft of this has been lying around for the last year and I have only just scraped the courage together to post it, so here goes...
> 
> This is my first fic and I feel like it's a mess. Any suggestions, criticisms or feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, please comment if you have the time - I'd love to hear what you guys think.
> 
> Shoutout to SaraalGhul and IrredeemableCanary for patiently listening to me babble about this for the last year, despite not working on it. You guys are the best.

Felicity smiled to herself as she opened the bag by her feet and carefully lifted its contents onto her desk. She turned each jar around, reading the labels, congratulating herself on both her idea and her choice. The comm crackled and came to life, Oliver’s gruff voice filling the room.

“Felicity! Where is he? There’s an intersection up ahead, I need you to talk to me!”

“Oh, right… um, he just turned right – he’s not far ahead of you – dark blue van… you can’t possibly miss it, because, you know, there’s a giant hole in the side, and a guy with a machine gun leaning out the window, and the driver is really crazy, like – frack, did you just see that? He almost ran that lady over – you should stop and check on her, Digg, she fell-“

“Felicity!”

“Yes, okay, I’m rambling – shutting up now.”

Sara’s laugh could be heard over the comms, and Felicity smiled, grateful that her new friend was a little more relaxed than Oliver.

She picked up the candles and walked around the foundry, placing them on shelves, benches, and one on her desk. She hummed to herself as she retraced her path a moment later, this time with a box of matches.

Felicity had slowly been adding personal touches to the Foundry, making the space somewhat less bleak and miserable. Just because they worked underground in a dank cave, didn’t mean the place had to be entirely unpleasant.

First it was a bright red clock hanging on the wall, set five minutes fast, because Oliver was always late. Then it was a coat rack, so these Neanderthals had no excuse to leave clothes crumpled all over the foundry. Then it was a tube of toothpaste and several toothbrushes – green for Oliver, yellow for Sara, blue for Diggle and red for Roy. A small heater, a shelf of books, and a bottle of dry shampoo for Sara followed soon after. And now the candles.

Over the comms came the sound of a machine gun firing, the squealing of tires, screeching of brakes, honking of horns and a sudden explosion. She turned to the screen that showed the live footage from the traffic camera nearest the crash to see the blue van in flames, and two figures lying unconscious a good distance away. She watched as Oliver and Sara climbed onto their motorcycles and sped away, leaving the aftermath for Officer Lance to deal with.

She replaced the matches and returned to her desk, sinking into her chair and breathing in the scent of jasmine. She had chosen jasmine, upon much deliberation, based on the premise that – well, nobody could really complain about it. Which was why she had avoided the scents such as ‘triple chocolate’ and ‘peaches and cream’ (ok, so she had thought Sara would enjoy that, but she didn’t care to explain to the others why she had chosen it, knowing she would turn a deep shade of red in embarrassment).

Either way, she would soon know what they thought of her latest… improvement.

***

“Well, Officer Lance has those two in custody and the SCPD is working on apprehending their accomplices,” Oliver announced as he descended the stairs, Diggle behind him. He stopped abruptly, “Why does it smell –“ he sniffed curiously, “-sweet?”

Felicity rose from her desk and gestured around the foundry at the burning candles, “Jasmine. I bought candles. It lowers the ‘grr’ factor in here or something… I mean, you gotta admit, this place is very cave-like, but the candles just make it feel more… homey, don’t you think?”

Oliver stared at her for a moment, then glanced around the room. “If it makes you feel better, sure. I have to get home. Family dinner.”

“OK – where’s Sara?”

“Sin was upstairs, so I guess that’s where she is. I’m sure she’ll be down soon. I’ll see you later.”

***

“Hey.”

Felicity jumped, startled, and let out an embarrassingly high pitched squeak. She spun around in her chair to see Sara leaning casually on the bench behind her. “Dammit Sara, don’t do that! You scared the frack out of me!”

“Sorry,” the other woman mumbled, even as a smirk tugged at her lips. She found the other blonde adorable but kept her feelings to herself. After all, she wasn’t blind - she saw the way Oliver looked at Felicity. Best to stay away, lest she ruin someone else’s life.

Felicity caught her smirk and blushed slightly, turning away to hide her flushing cheeks. “I, um… I bought candles.”

Sara looked around the foundry appraisingly, noticing the faint but sweet smell for the first time.

Felicity watched her, nervously waiting to see the other woman’s reaction. “I hope you like it, I didn’t know what flavour… scent… whatever… you like, so I got-“

“Jasmine,” Sara whispered. “It’s jasmine.”

She would have recognised that smell anywhere. And just like that, her heart jumped in her throat. A thousand memories that she had pushed away swirled before her. A dark haired angel lifting her off the beach of Lian Yu, carrying her to safety. A mentor, a friend, eventually a lover. Love, lust, hurt, and betrayal. Regret. Through it all, the lingering scent of jasmine. Fresh white flowers in the bedroom; her favourite handmade soap; a small diffuser for missions away from home. The sweet smell was as much a part of Nyssa as the scars that marbled her skin.

“Sara, are you ok?”

Felicity’s concerned voice cut through the haze. She leant heavily against the bench and tried to clear her thoughts. she tried to speak, but couldn’t breathe. The jasmine pressed down, around, filling her lungs. Suffocating her. “I… I have to go…”

If Felicity replied, she didn’t hear it in her rush to the stairs. She took them two at a time, conscious of the overwhelming need to throw up. She needed to breathe…

Air. Fresh air. She leant against the wall, gasping, and let the tears stream down her face.

***

 _It’s like a drug,_ she thought. _That makes me an addict._ She considered that for a moment and congratulated herself on her analogy. English was her worst subject at school – fortunately for her, she had found that her academic achievement or lack thereof hadn’t really mattered in the long run. She’d made her way by killing people and probably earned more than her mother ever did.

But yes. It was a drug. _She_ was a drug. She marvelled at how convincingly she’d tricked herself into thinking that she was over Nyssa. All it took was a whiff of jasmine and she was hooked again.

She had avoided the foundry for as long as possible, but now she craved a fix. She needed to smell the jasmine, get lost in the memories.

She opened the door to the foundry and padded softly down the stairs, checking she was alone. She stilled at the bottom and let the lingering scent of jasmine wash over her, resting her hand on the cold railing to steady herself.

She took a deep breath and walked to Felicity’s desk. The candle had long since cooled and had a note stuck to it, written in Felicity’s scrawling handwriting: _Don’t forget to blow me out!_ Sara grinned and shook her head, imagining the blonde blushing deeply when she finally realised the innuendo.

She removed the note and raised the candle to her nose, sniffing cautiously. It smelled a little artificial; it wasn’t quite the same as the white flowers that graced the Heir’s bedroom, but it was close. Close enough.

She quickly found the matches in a drawer and lit the candle. She carried it to the darkest corner of the foundry, where no one thought to look and sat on the cold, hard floor, gingerly placing the candle in front of her.

It was mesmerising. The flame danced in time to her heartbeat, the smell of jasmine wafted through the air as she let her mind wander, remembering good times and bad, laughter and love, bitter words thrown after betrayal and hurt. She remembered long nights spent worshipping each other, breathing in Nyssa. Remembered fighting and training and sweating and bleeding together. Remembered what it felt like to be loved, to be happy. Remembered planning a future with the woman she loved. Remembered throwing away that future in a single cowardly moment.

Later, she was jerked out of her newfound peace by Oliver saying: “Sara? Sara! We need to go – there’s a bomb on 5th.”

She glanced over to Felicity’s red clock and counted – one hour… two hours… almost three hours. Three hours lost in thought. She shook her head to clear it and rose to change.

She left the candle, letting it burn on in the corner of the foundry, a tiny beacon that refused to be quashed by the darkness pressing in.

(Later she returned, pleasantly surprised to find it still burning.)

***

Days slowly clicked into weeks, and the ache that started in her chest had spread throughout – _like cancer,_ she thought - she could feel it weighting her feet, her hands. She knew why, knew what it was - she needed Nyssa, needed her like a flame needed oxygen.

She had taken to sitting in that dark corner with the candle, thinking, meditating. Reminiscing. It was the only time she felt whole – as whole as she could be without Nyssa by her side.

She spent all the time she could there, long after the others had gone. At first, they pleaded with her to go home, then eventually they gave up and saw the futility in arguing with her.

Often, she fell asleep to Nyssa’s smell. She slept best with the candle – the most restful sleep she had since leaving Nyssa, free of nightmares. She woke the next morning, lying on her side on the cold concrete floor, the candle still keeping watch. Woke to Nyssa’s smell; reminding her of long nights and early mornings, of waking before Nyssa and simply holding her, of watching her sleep, looking so peaceful. Remembered feeling overwhelmed with love for the lethal woman beside her.

Some days, she woke to a hot cup of coffee on the nearby workbench. Occasionally, there was a pillow, the light pink case betraying its owner. On a particularly cold night, she woke to a blanket tucked around her shoulders. Always, always, the candle burned through the night.

As time passed, she burned through several candles, all of which were wordlessly replaced by Felicity. Sara supposed she should thank her, or say something, but that would mean acknowledging her admittedly odd behaviour. She couldn’t stand to try to explain to someone else that her tentative grasp on the present was slipping away, and the past seemed to beckon her home.

***

No-one mentioned her strange new habit, least of all to her, though Oliver shared plenty of worried looks and silent conversations with Felicity when he saw her huddled in the dark corner, yet again. Digg offered no opinion, only a cryptic ‘We all do what we have to to survive, Oliver.’

Felicity was perhaps the most observant. She noticed the routine Sara followed every night. It went something like: _Return from the mission, change clothes. Slide down the wall to the floor, light the candle. Close her eyes, breathe in the smell. Open her eyes, stare into the flame. Brood for as long as necessary or until interrupted. Repeat multiple times a day._ It was almost like a ritual.

She noticed the way she almost seemed to worship the candle, as though it was her closest, her only, friend, as well as her guiding light. She noticed the hours Sara spent in that dark corner, crouched on the cold floor with the candle burning before her, oblivious to the world. _Or hiding from the world_ , she thought.

Sara seemed to draw some comfort from it, she realised. Her eyes seemed a little less haunted when she rose, and she emerged from the corner, from the darkness, with a determined glint in her eye and purpose in her step. She went about her day, dutifully performing the tasks she was obligated to with a quiet efficiency, completing them as fast as she could, if only so she could return to the candle and her brooding. _What on earth could she be thinking about that required so much time?_

So she bought more candles for the foundry. Jasmine, as always (Sara liked the jasmine ones, for some reason); but tealight candles this time. It didn’t escape her attention that one disappeared, but she was oddly pleased by her discovery.

***

The smell of the candles seemed to have infused itself in her clothes, in her hair, in her very skin. It followed her around, lingering, like a shadow – ever present, but frustratingly untouchable. Then again, perhaps she was simply imagining it… Sometimes she felt like she may choke on it, it pressed down so thickly, and it seemed as though the air itself was struggling to stay afloat. Other times, it wrapped around her like a warm embrace on a cold night. _Nyssa’s embrace._

Nyssa had once told her that everyone has a ghost. Everyone has a something, a someone, a somewhen that haunts them and constantly plays on their thoughts and dreams. Nyssa was her ghost. How ironic. Was that ironic? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Nyssa haunted her.

_Her pleading with Sara to stay._

_The hurt in her eyes when Sara let her believe she didn’t love her anymore._

_The pain in her voice when she let Sara go._

Again and again, Sara replayed that fateful chain of events. Each time, she wished she could make a different choice. She dreamed of what could have been, what would never be. The pain reminded her that she didn’t deserve Nyssa anymore. Perhaps she never did.

***

“Sara?’ Felicity called. When there was no response, she spun in her chair to find Sara sitting in her usual spot in her corner, once again with a candle burning in front of her. She sniffed, and was not surprised to find jasmine flavouring the air. She hadn’t even noticed it had been lit – then again, it happened so often that there was nothing unusual to notice.

Felicity sat and watched Sara for a moment, taking in her closed eyes, the hands folded in her lap, her back straight against the wall, the slight crease in her brow. She rose, and walked slowly to stand several metres from Sara, conscious of every footfall, every click of her heels that disturbed the quiet. She noted the way the light seemed to end here, as though it dare not venture any further into the darkness of the corner; the way the flame danced and played across the walls and over Sara’s face; the way the noise from the Foundry seemed to fade away, leaving an otherworldly calm. It felt as though she was treading on holy ground, so she stopped at the brink, not daring to intrude.

“Sara?” she called again, tentatively.

Sara’s eyes snapped open and her gaze found Felicity’s, taking in her uncertain expression and nervous fidgeting. Felicity was surprised to see Sara’s eyes were slightly red and puffy, as though she’d been crying. _Don’t mention it, Felicity, you know these brooding hero types._

“Yeah?” “I was just… are you… are you okay, Sara?” she asked, unease mounting in her throat as she watched Sara’s guarded expression. _You can almost see the walls go up._

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She stood up, smiling - too brightly - the light in her eyes never flickered on. Below her, the flame still danced, twisting, writhing.

 _Then again,_ Felicity thought, she can’t recall ever seeing them light up. She idly wondered who the last person skilled enough to tease the light into her eyes was, but she already knew: Nyssa. As much as she disliked the woman, if only because of the kidnapping incident, she couldn’t help thinking that the ache in Sara’s eyes and the slump of her shoulders had something to do with the assassin.

“Okay… I was wondering if you would mind moving the training dummy over there for me? I need to make room, and it’s just kind of big, and heavy, and I’m not sure I can-“ She stopped talking when she realized Sara was already across the room, moving the dummy with ease.

She walked back to her desk, offering up a ‘thank you’, and didn’t bother trying to make conversation. She knew Sara would simply return to her corner, where the candle still burned.

***

Oliver, Sara decided, would be aghast if he knew what was really going on. But they both knew that what they had – whatever it was - wasn’t real. It was easy, convenient – a way for them to pretend they weren’t both lonely and lost in this world.

Besides, if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Nyssa’s fingers filling her; she could almost ignore the stubble grazing her chin; she could almost hear the endearments Nyssa whispered in her ear, the rich, lilting rise and fall of her voice.

If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost imagine the air smelled of jasmine, not of his overpowering cologne, at least for a while.

 _Almost_.

And when she came, silently, it was with Nyssa’s name running through her mind, and Nyssa’s body, and taste, and smell.

Afterwards, when he was sleeping, she left him in their bed, retrieved the tealight candle and the matches from her bag, cracked open the bathroom door and closed it behind her. She slid to the tiled floor, set the candle in front of her and lit it. Only when she felt the jasmine sooth the ache within her did she rise and return to Oliver’s side.

***

And when she woke from a nightmare, sweating and gasping for air, she quietly rolled out of the cot they shared and padded to her corner, where she lit the candle. She huddled against the cold, hard wall and breathed in the scent of jasmine, and let her thoughts wander.

She remembered bolting upright after yet another nightmare, taking in the rich red drapes over the bed, the sleeping form beside her, and the sweet smell of jasmine, reminding her where she was.

Beside her, Nyssa stirred and sat up, hand cautiously extending, knowing that Sara was frightened.

She remembered fingers gingerly tracing over her shoulder and down her back, until Sara crumbled and folded into the safety offered.

Remembered Nyssa holding her in her arms and whispering words of love into her ear.

Remembered the smell of jasmine enveloping her, swirling through the air, easing her to sleep.

***

So life continued – a precarious balancing act between her family, friends and the candles. Between the comfort of the past or the obligations of the present.

Until one fateful night when Oliver’s footsteps rang heavier than usual on the stairs. He ran into the foundry with Sara in his arms, deathly pale and convulsing, a sheen of sweat coating her chest and face. He lay her gently on the table as Diggle scrambled for the herbs and Felicity rushed over, heart jumping in her chest. _Please, please, please let her be okay._ “What happened?” she demanded, the words coming out more accusatory than she intended. There was no blood, she realized, save a long, thin gash tracing her collar bone, long since clotted.

“Knife,” he grunted, concentrating on crushing the herbs, “laced with curare.”

Felicity glanced down at Sara and busied her hands with a washcloth as Oliver forced the herbs into her mouth.

***

An hour later, Sara was stable and lying on the table, her breathing visibly easier and skin a healthier shade. At Felicity’s insistence that there was no longer anything that could be done for her, Oliver and Diggle had left, and since, she had been sitting beside Sara, keeping vigil and pondering the mysterious woman that lay before her. _She looks so small – so fragile. Almost vulnerable._

She had found the candles Sara loved and lit them, placing them on the benches surrounding the sleeping form. The scent of jasmine permeated the air, and Felicity felt her eyelids drooping as it filled her senses. She had noticed, when she lit them, that Sara’s breathing evened out, and the tension in her stiff form seemed to ooze away.

Felicity shook her head to clear her mind, and took a sip of the now cold coffee beside her. It wouldn’t do well to fall asleep beside the person she was supposed to be watching over. Beside her, Sara stirred. She quickly stood, her own hands flying to cover one of Sara’s, hoping to comfort her in some way.

“Sara – Sara – it’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Sara mumbled something – too faintly for Felicity to make out, her brow furrowing as she tossed in her sleep.

“Hey, it’s alright – shhh…” She moved a hand to Sara’s forehead, fingers idly stroking through the blonde’s hair, roots damp with sweat.

“Nys… Nyssa… I knew you would come,” Sara breathed, her voice weak but desperate. Frantic. Lost for what to say, Felicity kept up the steady motions of her hands, soothing, she hoped.

“Please don’t go… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Nyssa…” Felicity heard the pain in her friend’s voice, the words bowed heavy with regret and longing and felt her eyes stinging with tears. Her heart ached for Sara, who had known loss, and hurt, and heartbreak, and thought she had to battle through it alone. Her friend was hurting, deeply, and she hadn’t known why. Or perhaps she had, she simply hadn’t wanted to understand how Sara could love a woman that had caused so much pain.

Sara choked on a sob and sat up quickly, eyes snapping open, catching Felicity off guard. Her hand flew to Sara’s back, supporting her, conscious of the fact she had recently received a lethal dose of poison.

“Whoa, whoa – it’s okay, it’s okay…it’s just me – you’re okay…”

Sara’s eyes were wide, her breath ragged, her chest heaving as she looked around the room. _Looking for what?_ Felicity wondered, _or better yet, who?_ But she already knew the answer. Knew the reason for the pain in her friend’s eyes, the long, lonely nights spent in front of a meagre candle that could never really fill a lover’s place.

Sara’s gaze fell on the candles, the ring of them that Felicity had placed on the tables around her. They had burned as she slept, keeping watch over her. Her shoulders slumped, and her head fell back a little, eyes closed, as if to wish it all away, as if she wished to go back to her dreaming, go back to Nyssa.

Alarmed, Felicity watched as Sara drew her knees to her chest and buried her face in them. She quickly wrapped her arms around Sara, holding her as she shook, silent tears running down her cheeks.

They stayed like that for a while, Felicity idly rubbing Sara’s back and running fingers through blonde hair, and Sara clinging to her as if she were a life raft. Eventually the tears stopped flowing but still they held one another, until Sara abruptly pulled away, wiped her eyes, and nimbly leapt off the other side of the table. She stood awkwardly, facing Felicity, fingers twisting together, never looking at her friend. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice rough and rasping.

 _She’s so broken, so lost and alone. You’re allowed to feel, to cry. You don’t have to be strong for me._ Instead she just said: “No, no, don’t say that. It’s okay, Sara…it’s okay.”

Her friend still didn’t look at her, just stared fixatedly at the floor near her feet, a mournful gaze as though wishing the concrete held the answers.

“I,” she cleared her throat, taking a deep, steadying breath, “I should get to Laurel’s.”

Felicity walked around the bench that was separating them and stood in front of Sara, resting her hands on her shoulders, waiting for her to look up. Finally, Sara’s gaze flicked from the floor to her eyes, just briefly, before looking away and back again, this time holding her gaze.

“You never have to apologise to me, okay?” At Sara’s hesitant nod, she pulled her in to a tight hug.

Sara whispered a ‘thank you’ in her ear before turning and disappearing silently up the stairs, leaving Felicity alone with her thoughts, the candles, and the suffocating smell of jasmine.

***

Sara cursed herself for the hundredth time that day. If she hadn’t gotten so damn emotional after the poisoning incident, things would be as they were. Instead, there was an awkward silence that hung between her and Felicity. Neither of them mentioned it, but Sara had been avoiding the other blonde’s gaze, shame-faced at the thought of the tech wizard seeing her so weak. Worse yet, learning her deepest secret.

So when she came to leave, Felicity gave her a knowing look. She drew Sara into a long hug and whispered, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Sara could make excuses about why she was leaving, but Felicity knew the real reason.

She was never going to last long in their life, she supposed. It was too good. Too altruistic. She was too different from them. Oliver killed only out of necessity. For her, killing was a lifestyle. One that, despite Oliver’s arguments, she couldn’t simply discard and move on from.

There was nothing for her here, nothing to give her a reason to stay. Beating up criminals simply wasn’t doing it for her – they would have far fewer problems if Oliver simply killed them. Repeat customers were something of a nuisance in this business, she’d discovered.

She told herself that that’s what this was about. That’s why she was leaving – she just wasn’t cut out for the life of a vigilante – she was much better as an assassin.

She knew it wasn’t about that, though. The ache, the cancer that had started in her heart had spread throughout until every part of her screamed for relief.

The smell of the candles wasn’t enough. It had always been a little strained, a little artificial. But if she closed her eyes and got lost in the scent, she could pretend that it smelt the same as Nyssa.

But candles burn out, eventually. And when she’d burnt through yet another, she finally realised that there was only one place – one person – who could give her what she needed – the one she had flown from.

So when Roy went on his Mirakuru rage, she seized the opportunity to leave. She had known it was coming – at some point it was all going to burn out, and this was it. She needed to go home – needed to breathe deeply, needed to get lost in the smell of jasmine. This drug, she decided, was good for her – even if she was addicted. She just needed a permanent fix.

So she said her goodbyes. She paid a brief visit to her corner, noting how the darkness pressed down without the candle flame flickering on the walls. She packed the few items she needed for the journey, and headed for the stairs.

And stopped.

She turned, and walked to the drawer where Felicity kept the candles.

She picked one out, a tealight candle, small enough to fit in her pack.

Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo there's that.
> 
> I was kinda scared to post this because there's so many amazing Nysara writers on here and I feel like I could never do the pairing justice. Kudos to all you guys who write brilliantly and post often, I love you all.
> 
> Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Edit: Wow, you are all amazing. Thanks so much for all the support - it means a lot to me.


End file.
